Flight of the Bumble Bee

Tuesday was the fated first day of school....it didn't go well.

It wasn't that I was actually stupid enough to think that Mister would do the miraculous and enter into something new all enthused and willing, afterall it was the first day of big kid school, so some anxiety and tears were expected, but it is Mister we are talking about. Whatever drama was going to unfold was always going to be extreme. Having said that, the school itself effed up all our preparation for us. NOT happy!!!!

Late last year we went to the school of choice to take a tour. While on the tour, the principal mentioned that the kindergarteners (pre-schoolers) were currently undertaking transition visits with the school and had their final visit the following week. Mister was invited to come along and spend the morning, where we were assured that he would be visiting the classroom and teacher he would get next year. We, as parents, thought this would greatly help Mister, and remove some of the mystique surrounding this looming building and the people who contain it.

On the day, he wasn't too happy for us to leave him, kicked and screamed, but when I came to pick him up, he was fine, and was seen talking to other kids; had made a craft and the teacher gushed that he had settled quite quickly once I had left. Needless to say, it was encouraging for me to hear that, but I felt even more assured when Mister told me about the fun things they had done and the "buddy" he made, who just so happened to be called Mister too (fancy that!!!). So banking entirely on all these positives and totally downplaying the separation thing, we drilled it into him that his first day was going to be "just like the last time", just a little longer.

He had been worried about the lengthy day, and had been having nightmares about being left somewhere and never being picked up (total separation anxiety dream), but over all we were encouraged to find him quite excited about school and looking foward to seeing Mrs Fibberty-Jibbert again. It seemed the initial taste had given him enough confidence to feel that he could suck it up for the cause....in our dreams!

So on Tuesday, we arrived at the school on time. Unaware of where to go, so we asked at the front desk:

"This is Mister. He is starting new today. Can you please tell us where Mrs Fibberty-Jibbert's classroom is?"

"Oh! Mrs Fibberty-Jibbert doesn't start until tomorrow. She takes the new kids who have had no school experience. I have Mister down for Mrs Oozie-Kaphoops' class."

Upon hearing this information Mister's thin veil of containment goes up in smoke like a kleenex next to a naked flame. He screams that he is NOT GOING as he proceeds to high tail it out of the head office.

I am left to argue the point and wrap my head around the confusion to the front desk person, who assures me that Mrs Oozie-Kaphoops is lovely and how much Mister will really love her; and then I realise that Mrs Flibberty Jibbert just isn't going to happen and our months of careful reassurance amounted, in Misters trusting mind, to a conspiracy of EPIC proportions and a pack of dubious lies - at best...."so what ELSE have they lied about, I could imagine him thinking. It was just awful, but was about to get worse.

I tried to take in the location of the classroom from the map explanation given by the front desk person, all the while glimpsing flashes of Mister running for dear life outside the administration office with Ashley hot on his heels - if it was someone else, it would have been downright comical and Benny Hill music would have been playing in the background.

When I finally emerged from the office, Ashley had cornered Mister and we proceeded to lead (read: drag) him over to his designated classroom. Once there, we were greeted by the teacher, who was quite lovely and gentle. Mister wanted nothing to do with her, and given the time wasted chasing him around, all the kids were now seated, cross legged, on the carpet, heads turned and staring in Misters direction -just the thing he HATES, consequently Mister decided to do another bolt. This time I chased after him, and managed to get him back to the class room. The teacher suggested Ashley stay with him for a bit and then leave without too much fuss. It didn't happen.

Once the suggested time arrived, Mrs Oozie-Kaphoops approached and said "say goodbye to Dad". to which Mister protested loudly. Mrs Oozie-Kaphoops then took his hand and told us to leave - kicks and punches were thrown and we left the class room with our hearts breaking and the sound of his tortured screams ringing in our ears all the way to the carpark.

The secretary rang us later, to tell us that the principal had to be called to subdue him and he was now "sitting quietly and looking around" (made it sound like he had been straight jacketted and tranquilised). Mister later admitted that they had to lock the doors because he kept trying to flee. To his detriment NO ONE was game to befriend the wild man, and although he is now resigned to the reality that school is here to stay, he has struggled to find a friend. It is tough being the new kid at school. I do wish he had started in the other class with all the other fresh stock, but he is considered to have had "previous experience" and so he doesn't qualify for the newbie class. As it is, he is in a mixed R-1 class, which I am also not too happy about (internal GGRRRR!).

As it stands, he seems excited about the learning aspects and experiences that school offer, it is the long lunch time play that is bringing him the most anxiety. I am sure it will take him a couple of weeks to find his feet yet, but I do feel bad for him, and rather helpless. I just hope he clicks with a nice kid and is able to enjoy his play time. Today he begged me to persuade the family of his Canadian best friend to move to Australia (sob).

Is this in any way, an even remotely familiar new kid in school story, or are we just odd?

Disneyland

Ummm, I seem to have forgotten something....
Overlooked in the aftermath of the international move mayhem, I think I failed to mention our side venture to Disneyland. Imagine anyone forgetting to tell their mates about their recent trip to the happiest bloody place on earth...how completely abnormal, not to mention thoughtless and incompetent.

Yeah....for those who regularly read the old blog, I did happen to mention that we were going to Disneyland on our fateful voyage back to the mother country, and I assure you, particularly if you were wondering, we really did go there.

We had originally planned to return to Australia a week earlier than we did, but due to the needs of the buyers of our Canadian house, we ended up moving out many weeks earlier than planned and therefore, didn't really need that extra week in Canada to pack our wares and hit the road. Stupidly, we had chosen to say Bon Voyage to Canada the week of the American Thanksgivings holidays, which, we only found out later, is the absolute WORST time to go to Disneyland. After much toing and froing, we decided we weren't really achieving a whole lot by twiddling our thumbs in Canada for an extra week (Ashley was already committed to his leave date at work), so we bit the bullet and moved everything up a week, including the trip to Disneyland...so glad we did that. I doubt we could have gotten a more perfect week there. The weather was fantastic and there weren't that many people. On top of that, most rides and exhibits were open in readiness of the approaching holiday and ensuing crowds.

I was secretly freaking out after reading about the notoriously long line ups for rides (couldn't imagine lining up for more than 30 minutes to go on a 2 minute ride, let alone 90 minutes), but believe it or not, we were able to pretty much walk on to each ride. The Finding Nemo ride was our longest wait - 25 minutes. When we arrived to that ride, we were told that there would be a 45 minute wait (no fast passes) and "this is as good as it is ever likely to get". I guess some people got fed up and left along the way (?).

We were there for 4 days; arriving en route to Australia with eight large pieces of luggage, four pieces of carry on luggage and two kids car seats - basically clothes , important documents, laptops and all the things that made our six week stint in temp accommodation, bearable. I have to say, it was mighty embarrassing showing up with that much baggage - the looks of disgust and utter disbelief we received from passers-by as we attempted to wheel this virtual mountain up to our hotel room - even I was disgusted. Some people pointed with gaping jaw scraping the pavement or simply did the slightly subtler double take as we wobbled and teetered our way through the reception area, while others rudely remarked on our excess and shook their heads, at which point a felt obliged to inform them that we were in the middle of an international move, and with that piece of information and perspective, mouths went "OHHHH" and suddenly felt that we didn't have much stuff ofter all, given the circumstances (not that it is any of their bloody business, but telling them did make me feel less like a marauding capitalist pig).

Anyway, with the luggage carefully stowed again, we were able to go in hard for the first three days; making sure we got to see and go on everything we wanted. The final day was mostly spent at California Adventure Park, where the Cars movie characters hang out (Mister is a crazed fan!!!) and going to Ariel's Grotto for breakfast with all the Princesses for Missy Mopps. After lunch on the final day we went back to Disneyland for one last ride on the Disney train that circles the park (Mister loves trains... actually vehicles in general) and strolled the shops eating ridiculously large ice creams - that was a Saturday. I am so glad we went mid week, because the crowd had probably quadrupled in size on the Saturday, and the line ups were insane. We were happy to be saying farewell at that point.

As for highlights, I really enjoyed the New Orleans area of the park. I loved the atmosphere there. Mister really like the Haunted Mansion and the pirate themes. Missy Mopps liked Adventure Land; Dumbo, the Tea Cups and anything that wasn't in the dark - Winnie the Pooh ride and seeing all the characters were also highlights for her. But most of all, Ashley and I simply enjoyed seeing the joy on the kids faces. We must have spent 10 hours each day, and Mister walked the entire time without complaint (we hired a stroller for Missy Mopps), and since our return, they have both been asking us to reminisce upon and re-enact various aspect of our time there; always asking "when can we go back?) - I think they wonder whether it was all just a beautiful dream.

Of course I took a zillion photos, none of which seem to have really captured the essence of the place - it is truly a wonderful place for children; both the real kind and also the inner one's that lurk inside us all, forgotten and oppressed; just yearning to come out and play - that is the gift and legacy of Walt Disney.

ShuuUUU-TUP!

It rained last night. Really rained. A good rain that strummed a gentle, consistent lullaby atop the tin roof right right through the night. I had washing out last night and it was soaked through this morning. I didn't mind. Since our return from Vancouver, it had rained only twice before (probably would have been the non-rainy day count if we had still been there). I have really been missing the rain - although I am not requesting a deluge on any scale similar to that received by Queensland recently - I appreciate the rain and I honestly do miss it.

A good rain makes everything seem less tired; the trees have been given a lift after weeks of hanging their limbs in an exhausted droop in an attempt to conserve energy. The hydrangea leaves which had formerly resorted to rolling up into the fetal position, have uncurled entirely, like the thankful arms of the devoted, outstretched and receiving the Lord.

The world seemed alive again; even the dank puddles, dirty with a collection of old leaves and other debris, rapidly evaporating in the gutters, were being enjoyed by swarms of tiny sand flies, but it was the crickets that were really in full swing last night. So loud was their combined sound that it sounded like the squeal of metal on metal of a train winding its way along the nearby track - honestly, that is what I thought it was! There must have been hundreds of the little blighters out there. I went out to see if I could see any, but even with my ear seemingly hanging over a particularly noisy cricket, I could not see him nor any of his mates. I can't say I have heard such decibels of cricket music since our return, and wondered if they were in symphony, expressing their joy and delight in receiving the rain. If I were a cricket, I think I would have joined in.

time...

My baby boy got his school uniform yesterday. He proudly put it on and modelled it for us all - backpack on, lunch box at the ready. Seriously, where HAS the time gone? It appears to have slipped through my fingers and slunk out the door when I wasn't looking. Perhaps I should put up a sign on all the electricity poles and local shop windows, simply reading "LOST. Time". It probably won't return, nor do I expect anyone to called to say they have found it. Looks like it has gone forever.

The Bush

In Australia, I have always tended to find myself in bushland surroundings; whether it be the dry husk in the middle of nowhere, or located near conservation parks; trees seem to have a strong drawing power for me. I like it. The bush offers great wildlife, and even in suburbia, the bush provides a sense of space; a sense of peace; a sense of solitude, despite the awaiting concrete catastrophe humming in the background like a swarm of bees. There is a lot of beauty in the bush; in winter especially. I love to journey deep into the soul of the nearby bush and immerse myself in the colour, the smells and sounds; doing so is about as close to nirvana as I reckon I am ever likely to get.

Unfortunately, the big risk in living with untamed bushland on your doorstep, besides the inevitability of snakes, is bush fire, and in this part of the world, along with the ensuing drought, this threat is absolutely real.

South Australia, along with other parts of Australia, has had its fair share of bushfire already this season, but Friday, fire was threatening the closest suburb next to us - it is not a good feeling to hear the unnerving wail of emergency vehicles, nor smell the faint yet distinct aroma of smoke, and it is rather alarming to nonchalantly duck outside to hang out the washing, only to catch sight of a water bombing helicopter flying over head, amidst dumping a load of water, seemingly in the next street. Where is it? How far away is it? Are we safe? These are questions that filter into the old scone, prompting the Internet to be switched on in search for answers.

We were in effect, safe. The fire, in no way compares to those recently experienced in California or even in Kangaroo Island for that matter, stands as a warning that bush living offers both gifts as well as dangers. You see, life is fundamentally, always about balance.

Welcome

New year, new blog, new country...well old country, but I am getting reacquainted with it.

Ok, I have written a brief introduction in the previous post, so where have I been? I mentioned that I had moved. Yes indeed, it is true. Let me explain....

Some weeks ago my family and I moved from Canada, where we had been living for the past three years, back to good old Australia - the country of our collective births. Why? God only knows. It is hot and dry here! No seriously, we moved for work, we moved back for work. It's a whole switcheroo kind of thing. I liked Canada, I really did. It was green and lush and the landscape captivated me and grabbed me by the heart strings. But alas, I am not there now, and I need to get over it. So here we are....



It wasn't the easiest move back over (self funded...eeek!, but that is not the worst bit). The purchasers of our Canadian residence wanted to move in earlier than we had wanted, so we have been living temporarily in various locations since early October. I have two small children AND two dogs, so finding short term, family and dog friendly rental has been quite difficult, but in the end, with perseverance, something always seemed to work out for us. This run of good fortune briefly took a vacation, which decided to coincide with our arrival into Australia.

Imagine turning up to the property you blindly booked online, to rent out for a month (at an exorbitant rate mind you), believing the property was a nice hotel that you were familiar with, only to find that you were terribly terribly wrong and in fact, she's a bit of an inadequate hovel (Similarly named on the same street - GRRRRR!). Then imagine making the snap decision (after having flown 17 hours on a plane) to drive around town with no phone or clue, panic stricken with a terse husband, two grumpy and over-tired pre-school aged kids and 8 bags of cursed, worldly possessions, searching for appropriate, CLEAN, available and, dare I say, affordable, lodgings. Believe me....it wasn't fun.


For a start we discovered there was a week long car rally in procession, which inadvertently caused most of the hotels in close proximity to convenience to be booked out or to be suddenly and ridiculously over-priced. Example: after many hours and in desperation, we looked at a caravan park and were told that a cabin room was going to cost us $200 a night, no Internet, and the kids had to sleep on the floor. Eff that!


After a near nervous breakdown and 8 hours of helplessly driving around (crying, pleading children somewhere in the back seat shrouded by luggage), we decide to chow down at MacDonald's, buy a cell phone and peruse the yellow pages in search for the nearest hotel that had Internet use chucked in. It was a stressful and costly day!


We managed to persuade my brother into allowing us to stay at his place for the next two nights while we assessed our new situation. In the meantime miracles happened and we stumbled upon a tiny advertisement wanting someone to house sit for 4 weeks while they went interstate for medical treatment. It just so happened that the rental period was the exact time we required and was required to commence in two days. We met the woman and she was happy for us to stay in her house without concern for our lack of references and what not. It was squishy; just a two bedroom unit, but we didn't care, if fact we were thankful to just have a place.

We moved in on my birthday, which no one but my brother bothered to acknowledged. Since then we have covered a lot of clerical and practical territory; trying to set ourselves up and find a permanent address. We are presently staying in a property we agreed to rent for three months, after which, we will move into yet another property; one we have bought. We relieved that we will soon be able to settle.


I am not good with stress. I like my life and my surroundings to be calm and tranquil. I am getting back to that now. Now that the foundations have been laid and have dried off nicely, I have found myself starting on the framework: kids schooling, social groups for them and fitness for me. Having been so lonely over the past three years, it has been nice to re-connect with beloved old friends, chat and take in a coffee with them. My new years resolution (like everyone else's) is to be fit and healthy; so far so good. The brickwork begins......

The Brave - new world

HELLO!.....Well, this is awkward...standing here in the spotlight in front of this crowd - lovely crowd too, I might add. I have kept a couple of blogs for a while now and through the gentle encouragement of well-meaning, kind friends and folk, I have decided to start fresh with a new blog and continue my flouncing about on the international stage, well...at least I am making a shaky kneed attempt at flouncing. So why the new blog? Why burden humanity with the burnt offerings of my feeble mind, not to mention blind editing faux pas' (dear me)? Well, I have moved. And in all my computer illiteracy and stupidity, I am darned if I can sign in to my other blog (very frustrating).

I wasn't sure if I even wanted to start blogging again, I didn't have much to say, so it seemed. I felt that I could barely string two sentences together, let alone formulate and jot down an entire dialogue that might be at least half comprehendable to the masses. But lovely readers of the old blog have been kind enough to give me a little nudge of encouragement to get me back in the game....so here we are, Fortune does Favour The Brave...as I am sure you are all too well aware, so why not?

So what is this blog about? Themes, hmmm.... I don't care too much for themes. People provide me with my greatest inspirations and I love to write about the insights people give me whenever I allow myself to open and observe the surrounding world. I also love nature - I have often found a multitude of metaphorical answers to many a heart pain whenever I have casually placed the burden of my soul on the alter of the observable natural world...if you get my drift!!! No? Oh well. This is my poor attempt at offering up some kind of introduction to this new blog. Basically I am saying it is impossible to look deep into the future, or even scour the horizon of next week to suggest some of the things I might favour to write about, for one never really knows where inspiration might lie. So bear with me - we might both be surprised.